


After the Storm

by lasairfhiona



Series: Fiona Saga [19]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-23
Updated: 2011-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-18 13:12:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lasairfhiona/pseuds/lasairfhiona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fiona returns to Ireland for the first time after Joe's death to lick her wounds and make sense of everything with Connor's help</p>
            </blockquote>





	After the Storm

Ireland, Dingle Peninsula winter 2059

Fiona stood on the cliffs, watching and listening. She couldn't hear Joe's voice. She couldn't hear anything. The winds were quiet and the sirens weren't singing. A fog lay over the land and water like a blanket, effectively closing her off from the world she once knew. The day was as dark and gloomy as her mood. There was so much swirling inside her-- thoughts, feelings, desires-- and everything was threatening to burst out. She'd been here for several months now and it was always the same thing. She'd ride out to the cliffs and listen, wanting desperately to hear Joe's voice, giving her hope that life was still worth living. It never came, though, and only the silence greeted her.

She heard hoof beats behind her but didn't turn. She didn't want to know who was coming. If it were one of the local farmers she didn't want to face the questions she knew they would ask. Was she related to the couple who lived here 20 years ago? Wouldn't be the first time. She didn't want to lie and say yes, Joe was her father, in order to keep the secret of her immortality.

She was tired of hiding, tired of saying she was a relative of herself, and moreover, tired of the fighting and killing. For 1600 years she'd seen friends die at the hands of other friends. She'd seen friendships and lovers torn apart by the Game and all its trappings. She felt weary, down to her bones, she wanted no more of it. She wanted to die. What did she have left? Joe had died and left her nearly 20 years before. Methos hadn't been hers for even longer than that and now he was someplace hurting and she couldn't find him. She was used to being on her own, without a companion or a lover, but never in her life had she felt more alone than she did right now. There was some small part of her that longed for someone, anyone, to come and haul her from the pit of self-loathing and guilt she now lived her life from.

The hoof beats drew closer and with the sound came the cold tingle of another immortal. Fiona didn't care. If someone was after her head they could have it. The world was in turmoil once again and the events of the last six months had proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Since that day in London, she couldn't sleep without seeing the expression on Sarah's face the last time she'd seen her; cold and hard. Or Methos, shattered and sitting under a tree in clothes carrying the blood of the woman he loved. Both, once so proud, now broken shells of the people she once knew.

The hoof beats stopped and whoever was behind her stood quietly. She half expected to feel cold steel against her neck as a warning or her death. But she didn't. There were only two people who might know her well enough to know she would be here and that was Methos and Jim. She waited to hear the faintly accented voice but even that didn't come. Instead she heard the crunch of the cold ground as her 'guest' strode up behind her.

She still waited for some sign. Was it Methos? Was it her death? Nothing came but silence. Not even the sound of feet falling on the rocky ground. She wanted to turn but her desire for death held her in her place. Waiting.

"What's the matter with you? Do you have a death wish riding around out here in this fog?"

"Connor!" Fiona exclaimed as she spun around. She was surprised to see the elder MacLeod behind her now. She hadn't really expected her friends to come looking for her; foes, maybe, villagers definitely, but never a friend. She'd forgotten, or blocked out most likely, that he'd been here for Joe's memorial service and before -- when life was simpler and they could have fun. For a moment she was disappointed her visitor was friend instead of foe.

"Didn't you think this is one of the first places people would look for you when you decided to disappear again? Now, answer my question -- are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"It wouldn't matter if I killed myself or not," she said with a sigh, "I'd soon revive."

"Fiona! That's not like you at all."

"Connor, we're friends but what do you really know about me and the hells I've been through in my life? Maybe this is exactly who I am."

Connor watched as the anger she'd just attacked him with changed to something else. Fear? Desperation? She was right-- he didn't know her as well as he knew Sarah. He didn't know her dark side and every detail of her life. He knew the person she chose to show him and what he was seeing now was in strict contrast to the woman he'd met 200 hears ago.

"I'm not even sure who I am anymore. The people and things I used to believe were constants aren't anymore," Fiona confided quietly as she continued to look out over the cliffs.

Connor moved up behind her and rested his hand on her shoulder, feeling her shiver beneath his touch. He released her and walked back to his horse, pulling the blanket from the back of his saddle. Returning to Fiona, he wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, refusing to let her freeze regardless of what she wanted to do with her life.

She stood like that for a long time, letting the fog wash around them until she could no longer see the sea. Fiona knew Connor wouldn't leave her. Even though he was loathe to admit it, he was too chivalrous to allow any harm come to a friend.

Finally, Connor turned her away from the cliffs. He'd let her stand there in self pity long enough. "Let's go, Fiona."

She nodded numbly and allowed him to lead her to her mount and help her into the saddle. For once he was glad she was riding a placid mare and not one of those half-wild things she usually chose. She was too emotionally spent to handle the antics of a high-spirited horse.

He mounted his own horse and they headed back to her house, both riding in silence. The sheep that dotted the fields moved from their path, and then closed together again as if no one had passed that way at all. He wanted to talk to her. He wanted to find out what was going on in her head. Why she wanted to die. But now wasn't the time. She would balk at his every effort to get her to talk. Later, when they were settled at her house and sipped enough cognac to loosen her tongue, he'd get her to talk. Until then he'd have to settle for their silent ride.

As she and Connor drew close to her home, she could see the two houses intermixed with the barns and out-buildings. The oldest cottage had been there for centuries and had been her refuge for nearly as long as she could remember. The newer one had been there almost a hundred years and held her most treasured memories of Joe.

They rode into the yard, closing the gates behind them and stabling the horses. As they emerged from the barn, Connor headed toward the newer house, the one that he knew Fiona used.

"No!" she cried, "not that one. I'm staying in the old house."

"Why?" Connor asked, surprised.

"Too many ghosts, and I can't deal with them yet. I've got enough going on in my head right now."

"You'll have to face them sometime," Connor told her.

"I know, Methos kept telling me the same thing -- but I can't. It's too hard to think about especially now after Sarah and Methos."

Connor was curious. "Why?"

"I don't know. Maybe I'm not ready to move on without Joe."

"Fiona..." Connor began.

"Hush, Connor, I know what you are going to say," Fiona interrupted. "I'm just not ready yet-- it's that easy and that complicated. Connor, he was my life. He gave me peace and happiness. He gave me a life mostly out of the game. I know you are always badgering Duncan about trying to escape the game; for me it was a chance to be human to live a full life and forget that I was a part of something bigger. I'd never done that before. He gave me a realism I hadn't felt since before my first death."

Connor contemplated her words. "Promise me one thing. When you are ready, let your friends help you face the ghosts."

Looking at the house she had shared with Joe, she simply nodded. She wouldn't fool herself into thinking she could do it without her friends. She turned away from her home and continued toward the old cottage. She couldn't think about Joe right now, not while she was still haunted by Sarah, Methos and Adrianne.

Fiona opened the door and stood aside for Connor to enter. He looked around at the interior. He'd been here before a long time ago, before the new house had been built. It spoke of simplicity, just like the Fiona he had always known. It was one big room with another door that led to a bedroom. One wall was dominated by a hearth with benches around it. He could see the fireplace opened up into the other room allowing heat to move between the two rooms. She had added electricity and plumbing to the cottage but it still had few amenities. She only had a small refrigerator and two-burner stove. It looked like she'd moved some over-stuffed pieces of furniture into the cottage for comfort but that was it. Connor turned and hung his coat up on the hooks behind the door. Fiona did the same.

He watched as she piled logs on the fire, along with some kindling to get the fire started in hopes that it will stave off the winter chill. He started to help her but she waved him off and pointed to a cabinet that housed the scotch. He took out a bottle of Glenmourangie and two glasses. Connor poured and handed one to Fiona, then took his and plopped down on the sofa to let her work in silence. When she finished with the fire, she took a pot of stew from the small refrigerator and put it on the stove to heat. Letting it simmer, she sat down opposite Connor and looked into her almost empty glass.

"Are you ready to talk now?" Connor inquired.

"I'm not sure."

"Start with why you're staying in this house and not the other one?" he asked quietly, wanting to see if there was more than what she'd said outside.

Fiona looked up at him and he saw a deep sadness he'd never seen before, not even when Joe had died.

"I haven't been back since Joe died. It's hard enough being here on this land but I can't even go into that house. I just can't. It still hurts too much. Maybe someday I can come here and be happy again but not right now," Fiona said quietly. "Do our long lives make it harder to get over a loved one when they die?"

"I don't have the answer to that, Fiona. I do know that you have to stop mourning Joe sometime."

"Do I? Why? Have you stopped loving Heather?"

Connor winced at the suddenly remembered pain and said, "No, I have never stopped loving her, but I have stopped mourning her death. Now I remember the love, not the pain. There is a big difference."

"I know, Connor, it's just so hard to feel the love when all I still feel is the pain of his absence."

"It does get better; you have to trust in that. I finally learned to put Heather's death behind me and move on. There are still times when I roll over at night and forget that centuries have passed and expect to find her there. They get less and less as the years pass and other come into and out of our lives but they still do happen," Connor confided in her. "Don't tell that clansman of mine I told you this, though. He carries his hurt deep inside like you do and I am forever telling him when it's time to move on."

Connor watched as Fiona smiled for the first time since his arrival. It was a small one but it was there, nevertheless.

Fiona pulled her hand back and looked away from Connor and into the fire, thinking of her two friends and what had torn them apart. She wondered how long they would mourn the loss of their marriage. And Sarah, how long would she mourn the loss of a daughter she barely knew?

"You're thinking of Sarah and Methos, aren't you?"

"Oh, Connor," Fiona sighed. "What happened? What went wrong?"

"I have often asked myself that question. I honestly don't know. At first it was this marriage triangle that was turned in two ways with your marriage to Methos and mine to Sarah; then Adrianne. Would things have been different if Sarah never figured out about Adrianne? Would she just have been mad at him for a little while and then gotten over it? Adrianne and the circumstances of her birth changed everything. I almost wish I could go back to never knowing about where we came from and how we reproduce."

"You're not the only one. I have known for centuries and I still catch myself looking at other Immortals and wondering..." Her voice trailed off as if in contemplation about possible children.

"Since we're talking about Methos... will you tell me about you and him?"

"What more is there for me to say? I feel like my relationship with him has been dissected from every angle. I know you don't understand it entirely."

"You used to drive me crazy not telling me who the other sword belonged to. I spent years helping you look for those damn things, never knowing who he was. It was only after Methos and Sarah were married that I found out it was his sword. And then to find out about that bloody triangle."

"You know it's funny. You and I are friends. You and Sarah are good friends. I wonder how many times Sarah and I came close to meeting up again through you or even Jim and Bryan. Funny how the fates work sometimes." Fiona rose and walked back to the stove to check the simmering stew. "It's ready. Connor, are you hungry?"

"Always," he grinned.

Fiona dished up two servings of stew and then tore off a hunk of the soda bread she'd baked the day before. It was a little hard but dunking it in the stew would soften it up some. She sat again at the end of the sofa and they ate in silence. When they finished Connor took her empty bowl from her and placed them both in the sink.

"How long has it been now, since we met?" he asked as he turned back from the sink.

"Two hundred years, Connor. Two hundred years give or take a year or two"   
Connor returned to the sofa and sat down again. "Sometimes it doesn't seem like it. It was another lifetime then, another way of life. I remember you were so feisty and never gave an inch. Come to think of it, you were like that with Joe too, until he whacked you with his cane to calm you down." Connor smiled as he remembered better times. "Now you're missing that fire, the drive that would keep you going even when things were at their worst."

"A sign of the times, my friend. It's a different world now - things were simpler then. Joe was there, Sarah and Methos were together and in love. They were constants to go by. Now nothing is constant except our own long lifelines," Fiona said, wistfully.

"Do you miss those times?"

"Yes, I do. I miss Joe. I miss knowing that I could go and see Sarah and Methos and have them be their wonderful bickering selves. I even miss the times a century ago, even without knowing Sarah was alive, or where Methos was. Before Joe and the kind of love I had with him. I miss Darius and the long talks we used to have in his gardens. Does that make any sense?"

"It does. I've been there." Connor lamented. "You know, you can't blame yourself for what happened to Sarah and Methos."

"Can't I?" Fiona snapped.

"No, you can't."

"And why not? You and I both know if I'd thought before speaking, I would never have told Sarah how we reproduce and that Adrianne was her daughter. If I had done that, I might have prevented them trying to kill one another and they would be together right now."

"You have no way of knowing that." Connor commented.

"You tell me. Would Sarah have tried for Methos' head if Adrianne had just been a student? Sure, she would have been mad as hell and beaten him to a pulp, but she'd never have tried for his head." Fiona's words came out in an angry torrent.

"No, she probably wouldn't have tried to kill him, but we don't know that for sure."

"Connor, you know Sarah well enough to know how she'd react."

"Maybe so. But haven't you ever wanted to kill someone for killing your student?" Connor asked.

"Yes, I have wanted to kill to avenge a student's death. In fact I did just that once when it wasn't a fair challenge or fight. It was also the last time I've ever taken on a student too." Fiona confided. She didn't tell him the person whose head she took to avenge Anna's death was also a student.

Fiona stood and walked away. She leaned on the window frame and looked blankly out into the night. "Why couldn't I have just kept my mouth closed?" she whispered, to no one but herself.   
Connor noticed that she was starting to wear down. The grief she still carried over Joe's death and now the fight between Sarah and Methos were still talking their toll on her. Unobtrusively, he rose and walked over to the fireplace and banked the fire, adding enough wood to keep the rooms warm through the night. When he finished with the fire he walked up behind Fiona.

"Come on now, it's time for you to go to bed. We can talk more in the morning."   
Fiona knew Connor was right. She couldn't solve anything tonight, she'd found that out the past six months as she had exhausted herself trying to search for answers. She hadn't slept much since that day, and her nightmares haunted her. To keep them from coming, she pushed herself until she passed out from exhaustion and slept the sleep of the dead, where no nightmares could harm her.

"Thank you, Connor," she whispered as he hugged her.

He nodded and gave her a final squeeze before pushing her toward the door to her bedroom. He pulled some blankets and a pillow from the open cupboard and settled in on the sofa with another glass of scotch. He listened to her toss and turn before she finally fell asleep. He'd searched for the answers to the same questions Fiona was asking herself. He still hadn't found an answer either, and he didn't know if there even was one.

No answers were forthcoming as he lay on her sofa, listening to the fire crackle. Occasionally he could hear the spring of her bed creaking as she turned again. He noticed the creaking was getting more frequent. He thought of going in to check on her but figured she'd call for him if she needed him. His relationship with Fiona had never been an intimate one, more like brother and sister.

The creaks grew more and more frequent and were finally punctuated by a blood-curdling scream.

"NO!"

Connor was on his feet and into her room in a flash. He found Fiona sitting in the middle of her bed with her knees tucked into her chest, crying.

"Fiona?" he questioned softly, to avoid startling her further.

Slowly, she looked at him with tear streaked cheeks. "Oh, Connor," she cried.

Connor sat there and held her until the torrent of tears subsided to quiet sniffles.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

"It's the same thing, over and over again. Always the same dream, every night. Methos and Sarah. The fight. The only difference is that someone actually loses their head." She paused, finding it hard to say the words to another person. "Tonight it was Methos."

"Have you been having the nightmares since that night?"

Fiona nodded against his chest.

"Fiona, that was six months ago! No wonder you look like hell." Connor told her half with genuine concern and half with enough sarcasm to incite a response.

"Thanks for the reasurance, Connor."

"Fiona, you know me, I don't mince words. You look like hell and you need sleep. Have you tried taking something to make you sleep?"

"No, I don't take chemical medications."

"Then get into that herbal medicine chest of yours and mix yourself up some herbal sedative. You're the healer, so heal yourself."

Fiona thought for a moment then realized he was right. She'd never really thought of that before; her mind had been on Sarah and Methos and her own self pity to concentrate on the fact that she could actually help herself. Maybe if she had, she could have warded off some of the nightmares. She untangled herself from Connor and headed into the kitchen area. She began to rummage around in her cupboards, looking through her jars of herbs and muttering to herself. "Chamomile? No, not strong enough. Dill, I need dill. Where's my dill. Hell, no dill. Okay, what else... "

Checking another cupboard, she began to pull jars out, setting them on the small counter. Connor peered over her shoulder as she measured out small amounts from three different jars.

"Lettuce?" he questioned.

"Yes, it's a sleeping herb," Fiona answered.

He picked up another jar, reading its label. "Hops?"

She smiled again. She could tell she was going to have to tell him everything she was doing. "It's known to banish bad dreams."

Fiona finished mixing the herbs and set them to brewing in hot water as she told Connor about what she was making. "It's an old Welsh 'Myddfai Sleeping Mixture'. I'll need to brew more of it every couple of days, since it only lasts a short time. It should help some."

They sat on the sofa together. Connor asked about Joe and had gotten Fiona to tell him about some of the good times she and the mortal man shared. He hoped that when she finally went to sleep that she would dream of her mortal lover and the love they shared, instead of the nightmare that had plagued her for so long now. He asked if she thought it was some kind of premonition about Methos and Sarah, but Fiona didn't seem to think it was. She wasn't worried about their lives; she was just haunted by the past.

Poor Connor, she thought, he's never seen me when I've been haunted by the wars I've fought in.

When the mixture was finished brewing, Fiona poured herself a mug and headed toward her room. Connor followed and sat on the bed next to her as she sipped her drink. Maybe after several nights' sleep she could get to the root of her nightmares. He had an idea but he decided to sleep on it and see if anything else came to mind.

As Fiona got drowsy he took the cup from her hands and returned it to the kitchen before bunking back down on the sofa.

Connor woke the next morning to smell fresh bread and coffee. He cracked his eyes and looked about but saw no sign of Fiona. His watch told him it was nearly 11 am. Rising, he grabbed a cup of coffee and a hunk of the bread and wandered outside in search of his friend. After checking the stables, he finally found her leaning on a stone wall looking out over the fields toward the ocean he knew was beyond the rise of the land.

If it were not for the clothes on his body and the coffee cup in his hand, he would swear that he had been transported back in time to another era. Fiona stood with her hair loose and blowing in the wind. She wore a pair of old and faded jeans and a heavy cobalt blue sweater. Her green cape hung from her shoulders and flapped gently in the breeze. As Connor watched her, he was taken back to the early days of their friendship. She had been uninhibited then and game for any scheme he could cook up.

Fiona felt Connor's approach but didn't turn.

"Fiona?"

"Connor. Did you ever notice how the land smells in the morning?" she asked without turning around.

"I used to, but in the last 50 years or so it's hard to find it with all the technology."

"Never here. It always smells the same here. Standing here, smelling the mist and the land, I'm not sure whether it's 2059, 1459 or 459. When so much has changed in the outside world, this portion of my world remains the same."

"Why do you think that's so?"

"Because I own this land. I have for centuries. I have fought the progress that wanted to overtake this area. And even when the English were grabbing all the land, the man I had in charge of my holding company in London, did a very good job of protecting it for me."

"You are probably one of the few who managed to keep their lands during that time." Connor commented.

"I probably am. Connor, this is my homeland. I grew up here. I watched as pilgrims came to worship at the mountain. I watched as the circles of stone huts grew larger and larger. I saw my people wiped out in raids and uprisings. And I watched as my religion was replaced by another and my beliefs deemed the works of the devil." Fiona stopped to look over the fields before continuing.

"I wanted this little bit of my home, my life, to be safe from the modernization of the world the last few centuries. Don't you feel the same way about Scotland? We've both had our homelands stripped away from us. I brought the only other man I have loved enough to spend a lifetime with here, and together we lived out that lifetime. You know I don't take my sanctuary lightly."

"True. I feel the same way about the Highlands-- they are my home and always will be. I remember taking Brenda back there for the first time. And when Alex followed me there and figured out who and what I was, I went home again to stay. It is my refuge, like Ireland is for you. You have things to sort out and heal from, and this land is the only place you can do it, so let it heal you. Let it help you forgive yourself."

"Forgive myself?" Fiona interrupted.

"Yes, forgive yourself. You said as much yourself last night. You blame yourself for Methos and Sarah and the fight because you told her about Adrianne. You need to forgive yourself so you can heal and move on."

"And what about Sarah and Methos? Will they forgive me?"

"I can't speak for them. Only they know what they hold in their own hearts. I hazard to guess that neither one blames you for it." Connor told her.

"Oh, if only I knew that were true," Fiona said wistfully.

"What does your heart say?" Connor asked. "You've known the two of them how long now? You should know better than anyone how they react to things: What Sarah is like when she is angry and what she's like when she calms down. Methos can brood as well as Duncan can if he wants to."

Fiona turned again to look out over the land. She needed to think. Was Connor right? Did she need to forgive herself? Oh, if it were only that simple. He was right about one thing--this was the place to begin her healing. She'd forgotten, in her all-consuming guilt, how much she needed to be here and how much this place held for her. Yesterday and every day before that for the last few months, she had wanted to die. Today Connor had lit a candle to help guide her through the darkness that she had locked herself in after 'the fight'. She still might not be ready to move back into the newer house and put away her grief. But Connor made sense. All she needed to do now was to find the courage to do the one thing that would be the hardest to do -- forgive herself.

Maybe Connor could stay while she worked through the rough spots and learned to like the reflection she saw in the mirror every day. She needed the friendship that Connor offered. His presence would help ease the first panic that left her trembling in the quilts when she woke, thinking the dream was real.

Connor tapped her on the shoulder, shaking her from her thoughts.

"What?" she asked, curious as to what was behind his crooked grin.

"Race you to Connor Pass and back," he said with a playful lilt to his voice, knowing she couldn't resist a challenge like that.

"You're on." Fiona really smiled. It was the first real smile she'd had in a long time. It gave her a shred of hope again and a goal to head toward.

End


End file.
